


Dabbles in Ink

by juvjuvychan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, M/M, Minor Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 06:03:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5994181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juvjuvychan/pseuds/juvjuvychan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Request Prompt: Sam and Steve meet at a tattoo parlor, sam wants a tattoo, steve's the artist, wink wink</p>
<p>Sam is dealing with the loss of his partner, and long time boyfriend Riley after a tragic accident in the field. After a couple years, he decides to take his friends advice and try some active therapy by finishing the tattoo he and Riley shared. There he meets some colorful characters, and one hot tattoo artist named Steve Rogers, at the Avengers Assemble tattoo parlor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dabbles in Ink

Sam had gotten one tattoo before in his life. It had taken nearly two weeks to complete, about four hours each time he came in, and spanned one half of his entire back. Whenever Sam caught sight of the birds wing in all its detailed feathered glory, he felt a strong ache in his chest. He hardly ever went without wearing a shirt, just so he wouldn't have to see the tattoo, and so people wouldn't ask about it. His therapist, Helen Cho, had told him it wasn't healthy to keep what should be a good memory so deeply hidden; treating it more like a scar than a symbol of love and trust between partners.

Objectively, Sam knew Helen was right. Emotionally, Sam still struggled to see the tattoo on his back as anything other than a reminder that he was here, and Riley wasn't. So Helen suggested active therapy. Slowly getting comfortable wearing no shirt around his apartment, eventually growing comfortable enough to be shirtless again in public spaces, during their last session Sam had inquired if getting another tattoo would be detrimental to his recovery. Helen had told him, "If it's your choice, it could be a sign of healing, and readiness to move on with your feelings of grief". 

So here he was, standing in from of Avengers Assemble, a tall sleek building with silver paint and giant white chrome letters spelling out the name. It had been recommended by some old friends of his from his old Harlem neighborhood on a recent trip to Hells Kitchen. Luke, Danny, and Jess had happily slapped him on the back and greeted him with warm hugs and gentle hands. They didn't question why he hadn't been around in recent times, they all had their stories after all.

When Sam had told the three of them he was thinking about getting another tattoo, one to specifically match his current design on his back, they had smiled. Luke had suggested Avengers, talking about one of the artists there - a thick muscular woman with green hair named Jennifer - did his, Danny, and Jess' matching tattoos for their anniversary. It was the only tattoo Luke had ever gotten, but both Jess and Danny had one tattoo before. A purple jewel was inked on Jess' lower stomach - a regrettable mark she was still teased over - and a huge dragon symbol stretched across Danny's chest. 

"I think you'll really like it dude," Danny had said stuffing fries in his mouth by the handful. Jess nudged him with her foot and he scooted his streaming basket over to her without saying a word. "The one chick there was pretty hot". Luke tugged his blond hair playfully. 

"Not hotter than either of us I hope," he said with a teasing smile stretching across his face. Danny practically melted, two spots of red blooming high on his cheeks. Next to Luke, Jess chuckled, fingers dancing along Luke's sizable bicep as she smirked wickedly at Danny. He leaned up wanting, and Luke pressed a quick, but firm kiss to Danny's mouth. 

Sam gagged, and tossed a fried pickle at them. "You guys are to much", he said without much resentment. He did want a life again, to start rebuilding up from the scrapes of his old one. One step at a time, Helen had told him. There's no rush. It's okay to go at your own pace. So Sam had taken the card they offered him. Told him to check out the website, pick an artist, and make an appointment. 

"Go, or don't go man," Luke had said in that soft, reassuring manner he always projected. "Either way, we're always here for you." 

Even so, It was difficult to stand here, even with his friends assurances. The last time stood before a tattoo shop, flipping through an artist portfolio with eager curiosity, he had been with Riley. They had gotten matching wing tattoos on their back while on leave. They had held hands while the other twitched and grimaced through the pain of the needle biting through their skin. Riley had teared up a bit, and the skin around Sam's had scabbed over faster. Sam remembered Riley dragging his hand along his back, tracing the thick black lines, to the spaces of white in between. Sam rubbed his eyes and pushed the glass door open.

Above him the door bell jingled loudly causing a redheaded woman to jerk her head away from whatever her fingers were studiously scribbling on her sketchpad.

“Hey there soldier,” she said with a playful, but not flirtatious, smile that seemed to curl into a smirk the closer Sam got to the counter. She was a petite woman, with a small frame, plush lips, and firm biceps outlining her arms. Sam could spot a random assortment of tattoos located on her neck, and wrists as she moved to address him. Her back straightening as he stood before her. She had posture similar to a soldier he noticed, and wondered if she could see the marks of military service on him as well. The tattoos he could see were some Russian words etched around her wrists, and a dark red hourglass shape sat itself right below her collarbone. Sam grinned, feeling oddly at ease with the woman. 

“Hey yourself,” he said placing an arm on the counter but careful not to smudge the glass. She was pretty, no doubt about that, and it felt nice to harmless flirt a bit. “Here for an appointment, but could be tempted to stay for you."  She giggled, biting her lip and looking away. More amused by his line than flattered, or impressed. Though Sam did catch her eyeing the shape of his shoulders underneath his blue button up.

“Name,” she asked pulling out a thick paper stuffed binder from beneath the counter.

“Sam Wilson.” He waited as she flipped through the pages for a moment.  

She gave a low chuckle, and murmured, “Oh he’s going to love this.” Sam raised an eyebrow, curious but not alarmed at her reaction. “Hey Bucky,” she cooed and Sam wanted to ask, “who the hell is Bucky?” but refrained. White folks and their weird ass names.

“Yeah?” A scruffy looking man with a thick build and stringy dark hair popped out from behind the curtain leading to the back. His hair was tied back in a messy sort of ponytail, but underneath the 11′o clock shadow, Sam could guess was a good looking man. He had scars though, mainly along his chest from what Sam could see under his low cut black tank top beneath his layers of tattoos. His left arm had an entire sleeve tattoo of indiscriminate designs. While his right arm, a prosthetic and a damned good one from what Sam could tell, had a red star on the shoulder. 

“Could you get Steve please while I get our newest customer ready?” She said ‘newest’ but it sounded strangely like ‘victim’ to Sam. Then she winked at Bucky with a wicked smile, completely different from the one she'd given Sam earlier. Sam had to hide his laugh behind his hand as Bucky blushed on cue. Sam thought was kinda…cute in a way.  

“Sure Nat, but,” he paused eyeing Sam up and down, “okay yeah I can do that.” He disappeared in the back again leaving Sam with Nat once more. She took him over to a single office room with a tattoo bed. There were high mirrors along one side of the wall, a sketching desk with pencils and markers, and finally a small desk with pictures of who Sam assumed were family and friends. 

“Just sit here on the bed, and wait for Steve,” she gave Sam one last teasing smirk before disappearing again. Sam felt mildly like he was going to be punked. White people could be so vague for no damn reason. Sam waited for a good two minutes before a man came in running through a few quick apologies about making Sam wait. 

He was blonde, with a strong square jaw, a thin pink mouth, and had one of the biggest and nicely shaped chests Sam had seen in a long while. If the shirt was any tighter - did this dude buy extra smalls only? - it’d rip. 

This shop was ridiculous. Not that Sam was complaining. Not very often he walked into a place with a bunch of good looking people. Even less often did Sam feel comfortable enough to look, admire, and appreciate. Riley had been his partner, his life, for so long it was hard to look at anyone else. He was getting better, moving on, grieving proper by following Helen's treatment but still. Sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of short brown hair and swear he was seeing Riley again. As if the man in the distance would turn around and give him that smile, wide and wild, that Riley had always given him and just him. The man in the distance was never Riley though, and Sam was slowly coming to accept that. He wasn't looking for ghosts as often as he once did, and now, he felt comfortable enough to eye the very attractive man in front of him without guilt. 

“So,” the man clapped his hands together sitting on a stool beside the tattoo bed, “I’m Steve, nice to meet you Sam.” Sam took the offered hand for a firm shake noting that Steve had an American flag tattooed into the shape of a shield peaking out from underneath his tight grey shirt sleeve. The muscles on his arms were beautiful. Bucky's had been solid, like he trained for hours on end lifting, while Steve's were more the shape a boxer, a brawler would have. Sam felt the surprising sensation of wanting to reach out and touch them. 

Instead he asked, “Fan of the flag?” nodding towards Steve's tattoo. Steve stopped, then chuckled quietly. 

“Yeah, just a bit.” Sam could feel it, the way Steve suddenly seemed to pull in on himself. Hiding behind blank smiles and faux friendly. Sam wasn't fooled though.

“Yeah, me too, though sometimes I wish I hadn't been." Steve blinked, surprise melting into understanding. "Still get nightmares sometimes, worse cause I can't sleep, bed feels…” 

“To soft.” Steve finished for him softly. 

“Like I’m sleeping on a cloud.” Sam nodded and noticed Steve was instantly brought back in, more relaxed and comfortable. It always helped, whenever Sam met vets in a public environment, to make it known that he could relate. That he could understand, and wouldn’t judge them for whatever they had experienced. Which wasn’t easy, Sam was used to being judged - for being black, for being bisexual, for being a soldier, for having PTSD - but being used to something didn’t make it easier. Only time, support, communication, and therapy did that. To bad that was also something people got judged for. Thank god Sam had a good ass support system at his back. 

“How long were you in?” Steve asked sliding his stool over to grab his sketch book off his desk. 

Sam stretched, arms above his head feeling a satisfying crack in his shoulders. “Two tours.” Steve nodded absently, Sam noticed, as blue zeroed in on the way his muscles flexed as he stretched. “You?” Sam asked not hiding the playful smile that crossed his face. Nice to know the attraction went both ways here. 

Steve caught Sam catching him staring and smiled back unashamed. , Shrugging he said, “Four, with two in special ops.” 

“Pararescue,” Sam said feeling strangely comfortable and at ease with Steve. Sam could see why Jess, Luke, and Danny would send him here. There seemed to be a few miltary - former or otherwise Sam wasn't sure - working here that would understand him in ways others couldn't. The hot tattoo artists were also a bonus. “You’re friends out there, Nat and that Bucky dude, same?” 

Steve shook his head, “Just Buck, and only for a little bit before we got separated for a while. Natasha defected, was with the Russians before she met up with us.” Steve got quite, and Sam thought of the scars on Bucky’s chest, and his prosthetic arm. 

“We’ve all got our stories, but it helps to talk about them with others who know too." Sam paused, "Who get it.” 

“You got one too?” Sam calmly breathed in, then out, closing his eyes. He tried to recall the sun that reflected off Riley’s hair, and the stretch of his smile across his face over the sound of his screaming, or the smell of charred flesh from the fall. He felt a touch on his hand which was strangely comforting. 

“Wingman, Riley. Went down.” Four words. Only four and yet they held such a weight around his neck. Sam had his good days, his normal days, and his bad days. Today, today felt like it could be a good day. What with the way Steve was looking at him in soft understanding and big blue eyes. 

Sam had tried dating a couple times, men and women, but nothing ever really stuck. He even let Luke set him up on a date with Misty Knight who was absolutely gorgeous. Dark skin, a beautiful afro perfectly styled and held back with a red hairband, and always dressed to kill, Misty had been a knock out. They liked each other, but it wasn't meant to last very long. They were still friends though, Sam had even gotten an invitation in the mail for Misty's wedding to her long time girlfriend Colleen Wing. He didn't have a date, but that might be changing. 

“I understand,” Steve said, and Sam got the feeling he really did. More intimately even that other vets in the program. “Is that the reason for the tattoo?” Sam nodded. “Alright, lets start with what you want and work from there.”

Sam pulled off his shirt, and was pleased to see a bit of pink bloom along the apples of Steve’s cheeks. He pointed to the wing on the left side of his back. “I want one to match.” 

“May I?” Steve asked wiggling his fingers. Sam nodded mentally preparing himself for the feel of Steve’s hands. He still shivered when they gently began tracing the thick black lines that curved along Sam’s back. “Beautiful,” Steve breathed as his fingers ran along Sam’s shoulders. He hit a ticklish spot and Sam giggled despite himself. “Oh! Sorry,” Steve said pulling away quickly. He coughed and Sam sat back down feeling flushed himself. 

“Okay, um, so you just want a replica of that specific tattoo then?” Steve asked peering down intently at his sketchbook. 

“Yeah, if you could.” Sam answered rubbing the back of his neck feeling a bit self-conscience. If his mother could see him now, fidgeting and squirming like he was trying to ask out his crush to prom. Shop was ridiculous. 

“No problem, but it’ll take a while,” Steve looked up at him, blue eyes not shy so much as curious and hopeful. “If that’s okay.” 

Sam smiled, “oh it’s more than okay,” he replied feeling bold. 

“Then we can set your first appointment for next week, and you can see me later tonight.” Steve said placing a slip of paper between Sam’s fingers. Sam blinked, then laughed. Well, looks like he might have a date to the wedding after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request a friend made to me on tumblr. It's cleaned up (though still not perfect, the lack of a beta) and expanded on. Given that there was a bunch more I wanted to explore in this, I might write some followups for fun. I really want to share more about the reason behind Sam's tattoo, Bucky and Nat's relationship, and bring Nick Fury in as the investor behind the shop and bring in more characters. I ship Jess/Luke/Danny so hard that I always try to slip them into my fics.


End file.
